


I Just Can't Stop Myself

by emoviolent



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Dom!Patrick, Dom/sub, M/M, Only if you squint - Freeform, Overstimulation, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spit Kink, Sub!Pete, This is pure filth, jk i feel a lot of shame actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emoviolent/pseuds/emoviolent
Summary: Patrick chuckles at that, applying enough pressure to make spit dribble from Pete’s lips and down his face as he rasps. “Such a dirty boy,” he muses tauntingly. “Do you like being a dirty boy, Petey?”





	I Just Can't Stop Myself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_chaotic_panda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_chaotic_panda/gifts).



> i am so sorry that this took over a month to write. i've scraped four other fanfics in the process. i hope everyone, especially @the_chaotic_panda, enjoys it! happy (severely) belated birthday! this wasn't beta'd by anyone but myself because i wanted this to be 100% my work so i apologize for errors.

The muted sound of footsteps stir Pete from his resting position. He stretches his legs out, groaning at the mild cramping in his muscles and adjusts himself so he is kneeling on the floor. The carpet cuts into the soles of his feet and knees but the pain keeps him grounded, serving as a reminder of servitude. 

He hears the unmistakable sound of the bedroom door opening and closing, wood softly crashing against plaster. The footsteps resume, growing louder as he’s approached. The room is so silent that he can hear his breathing quicken and feel the presence of someone over him. Pete quivers with anticipation and rolls his tongue against the gag in his mouth, teeth scraping against the wet rubber. 

“Look at me.” Patrick’s voice is low and lax, but Pete knows that this is a command. 

Pete tilts his head upwards, attempting to look at Patrick despite the blindfold obscuring his vision. All he can make out through the red cloth is the beam of the ceiling fan light and the silhouette of Patrick’s body. Fingertips run over his left cheek, jawline and down to his chin before a hand is enclosed around his throat. A whimper escapes from Pete, pleading and high-pitched. Behind his back, his hands flex in their restraints, looking for something or someone to grab.

Patrick chuckles at that, applying enough pressure to make spit dribble from Pete’s lips and down his face as he rasps. “Such a dirty boy,” he muses tauntingly. “Do you like being a dirty boy, Petey?” 

The best response Pete can offer is a damp, muffled sob and the desperate stir of his hips. That proves enough of an answer for Patrick. His hand drops from around Pete’s neck and air rushes back into his lungs, leaving him red in the face and heaving. As Pete doubles over, Patrick pulls him into his arms and tenderly rubs his fingers into his back. When Pete’s breathing slows to an adequate rate, Patrick presses a kiss to his forehead and another behind his ear. 

“I’m going to remove your blindfold now,” Patrick whispers. “And then you’re going to watch me.” Pete hums in agreement and almost falls forward when he is released from Patrick’s arms. 

Pete perks up when he hears the clinking of Patrick’s belt buckle and the rough slide of his pants down his thighs. He moans around the gag and more drool floods his mouth, if even possible at this point. As soon as he feels the pads of Patrick’s fingers on either cheek, he leans into his touch eagerly and scoots towards Patrick. The tender touch becomes a tighter squeeze followed by nails raking down his flesh, making him whine in pain. 

“I’ll tell you when to move,” Patrick states sternly. “Do not push my hand. You know how I feel about that.” Despite his agitation with Pete, he caresses the red marks left on Pete’s face until they turn from a vibrant crimson to a faint rose. Pete sits still as Patrick unties the blindfold in two fluid movements and lets it fall into his lap. 

It only takes a few seconds for Pete’s eyes to properly adjust to the room’s lighting but he doesn’t need his sight to know that Patrick is touching himself. All he has to hear is that familiar, low moan and the subtle slide of his cock in his fist and his mouth is flooded with salivation. Pete squirms from his spot on the carpet and looks up at Patrick as he works his fist over himself, batting his lashes coquettishly and silently begging as best as he can. What he would give to be the one bringing him pleasure instead of his own hand…

Watching is hard to do and feels forbidden, though he’s seen Patrick like this many times before. Patrick, in the shower with hot water scalding down his back… in their bed with his jeans kicked off on the rug… This feels far more intimate, knowing that Patrick has put himself on display just for Pete to see. What would be submissive in nature is replaced by a smug atmosphere, calculated and challenging, as though daring Pete to move forward and attempt to touch him. 

If Pete had the option, he still wouldn’t dare move a muscle. Actions have consequences and Patrick isn’t above punishing him. He’s learned that lesson one too many times. 

God, if Patrick doesn’t look delicious. The gentle tug of his shaft combined with the soft smack of his balls against his hand is heaven and hell all at once. And the fluid roll of his hips doesn’t help either. With every tedious pull and exaggerated moan, Pete’s cock stirs and hardens in his boxers, straining against the fabric uselessly. He wants to tear his gaze away and ignore Patrick’s taunting lewd behavior but it is far too late for him to pretend he hasn’t noticed. He closes his eyes instead, but he can’t erase the image of Patrick masturbating from his mind. 

At the pulling of his collar, Pete’s eyes open to meet those of an expressionless Patrick. Hand still wrapped snug around his dick and gently caressing, Patrick somehow maintains an indifferent reaction. “Look at me,” he purs. “Look at your owner, puppy.” Pete immediately relaxes in Patrick’s hold and sinks down onto the floor, thighs spread wide for Patrick to see the budding erection between them. Patrick moans approvingly at the sight and quickens the pace he’d set on himself, his free hand guiding Pete forward until his face rests on his left thigh. With a final squeeze followed by a droplet of precum running down the shaft, he releases his cock, smiling deviously at Pete’s awed air. “Does the puppy want to play?” he asks in a dark, seductive tone.

Pete nearly sobs at those words, nodding his head eagerly and nuzzling Patrick’s thigh, smearing spit over the lightly haired flesh. Grabbing his shoulders and sitting him up, Patrick murmurs, “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. Just can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” At that, Pete shakes his head and breathes deeply through his nose. That must have been the right answer because Patrick pats his head lovingly and ruffles his hair before kissing his cheek. “I think you deserve a treat!” he declares happily. 

_ About damn time,  _ Pete thinks to himself. The gag is promptly unbuckled from around his head and extracts thin lines of spit from his mouth as Patrick pulls it away. Somehow, Patrick’s cock seems to grow harder and a deeper shade of pink that makes Pete think of cherries. Pete would love to suck him until he bursts and coats his tongue in his juices. 

The thought of a blowjob mustn’t had just been on Pete’s mind either but Patrick isn’t quick to comply, always one to tease and purposefully agitate. Patrick trails his finger on Pete’s lips, catching the drool and then using it to coat his cock for a slicker slide in his hand. His hand returns to Pete’s mouth, two fingers pushing past his plush lips and exploring the inside of his mouth in long strokes. After a couple of minutes, Pete realizes that Patrick’s hand is moving at the same speed as his fingers and he has to swallow a cry of indignation. He curls his tongue around the digits and swirls them, mimicking the way he’d like to suck Patrick off and momentarily throws Patrick off. Hips stuttering, Patrick squeezes the base of his cock and removes his fingers from Pete’s mouth, noiselessly gasping at the amount of saliva on his face. With nothing but pure admiration and lust in his spruce-colored eyes, Patrick whispers, “You are so beautiful.”

Pete smiles earnestly and leans forward to kiss Patrick’s hand as a sign of gratefulness, eyes darting between his face and cock, unsure of what to focus on and waiting for instruction. 

Then comes the command, firm and more dominant than the words that came mere seconds before it. “Open your mouth. Tongue out.” Pete is quick to obey, wet tongue hanging heavily on his bottom lip. “That’s my good boy,” Patrick cooes sweetly. A hand is brought up to Pete’s head, fingers curling in his hair and then shoving him down onto his cock, slowly at first to give him the chance to adjust to his girth and length. 

The twitch of Patrick’s hips is fragile but hints at something lewd, maddening in the best of ways. As an act of revenge for tonight’s earlier events, Pete hollows his cheeks and swallows around Patrick with primal exuberance, watching with delight as the other man’s eyes roll back in his head and his grip tightens on his hair. Pete’s own dick throbs between his legs, heavy and hot compared to the air around him. Patrick peers down at him through his eyelashes, trembling with hedonistic desire and mild annoyance. “Pete,” Patrick warns. 

Having had enough of Pete’s teasing, Patrick harshly thrusts into his mouth and huffs out a haughty laugh at the moist gagging noises Pete makes. The grind of his hips becomes less forceful but retains the same amount of urgency. Based on the quiver of his thighs, the increase of moans spilling from his lips and the sweat on his brow, Pete can tell that Patrick is close to an orgasm. 

In response, Pete gulps around Patrick’s length and feathers his tongue over the head of Patrick’s dick, lips curling into a crude smile. A coarse grunt leaves Patrick’s mouth and he lifts Pete’s mouth off of him. With his other hand he grips his dick and massages the tip over Pete’s wet lips, drawing back when he parts them in an attempt to take him back into his mouth. Pete whines and bites his lower lip, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit. 

Smacking his cheek with his dick and earning a surprised yelp, Patrick growls, “Look at me.” Pete reluctantly brings his gaze back to Patrick, teeth grit and eyes burning with fresh tears of frustration. “Bad boys don’t get what they want.”

“B-but I’m not a bad boy,” Pete whimpers. His hands tense in their cuffs and ball into fists. “I’m a good boy!” He knows that Patrick hates when he speaks out of term and that it warrant punishment, but this feels like enough of one. Not being able to touch Patrick or himself is pure torture as it is. He grinds his hips forward, hissing as the damp fabric of his boxers drags over his hardened cock. Patrick’s own dick twitches in his hand, flushed red and weeping drops of precum. 

Rather than reprimanding Pete for his wordiness, Patrick playfully cocks his head to the side and says, “Did you just want my attention?” Pete nods, holding eye contact and not ceasing the sensual roll of his hips. His gaze drops to between Pete’s legs, eyes fixated on the hardness that has bloomed to life. “All of this, just from watching and serving me?” Again Pete nods, eyes falling shut with a soft moan as Patrick presses the heel of his foot against his bulge and applies pressure.

“You really are a good boy.” With a sharp tug of Pete’s dark hair, he tilts his head back and strokes himself. “ _ My  _ good boy. Say it.”

“I’m your good boy,” Pete echoes between broken off gasps and mewls as Patrick kneads his balls. His stomach clenches as his orgasm nears and before it can hit him, he gasps out, “May I come, Patrick?” 

As the pace of Patrick’s hand quickens on his cock, he nods and presses his foot against Pete’s crotch, hard enough for him to shake as warmth spreads through his body and the first few spurts of semen stain his underwear. Tears spring from Pete’s eyes as Patrick rubs him through his orgasm and flow forcibly as the sensation becomes too much for him to bear. Although it begins to hurt, Pete stays as still as possible and takes what he’s given, letting out pained sobs with each press of Patrick’s foot. 

Patrick has devolved into choked off frantic moans and shaky breaths taken through gritted teeth, hair and face slick with sweat and cock leaking like a faucet. One particularly loud grunt earns Pete’s attention, softened penis throbbing at the sight of Patrick bucking into his fist and cursing under his breath.

“Stick your tongue out,” Patrick gasps as his foot comes to a halt. “Now.” 

Pete obeys immediately, too far gone to have any humility or shame in being so whorish. Patrick muses his praises as come streaks across Pete’s face, striping his left cheek, across his nose and lips in white. As the last drop dribbles out of Patrick’s slit, Pete scrambles to lick it away and suck the tip of his cock into his mouth, earning a hoarse, “Fuck,” from Patrick. 

When Patrick stops trembling, Pete pulls away and swipes his tongue over his lips, gathering the cum in his mouth. Before he can even swallow, Patrick says, “Let me see it.” The pleased sound he makes at the sight of Pete covered in spit, tears and his cum is music to Pete’s ears. “Now swallow it.” 

Pete swallows with a soft moan, hazily watching as Patrick tucks his limp dick back into his pants. Once Patrick is redressed, he taps Pete’s thigh with his foot. “Are you alright?” he asks. “I was a little bit rougher than usual today.” 

“I’m fine,” Pete assures sleepily. “I feel...sticky.” He giggles giddily and tries to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the fluids left behind until he remembers the handcuffs. 

“I’ll get a towel and the keys,” Patrick announces. “Just wait here.”

“As if I have a choice.”

“Keep it up and I’ll ‘lose’ the keys.” 

Though that was mostly an empty threat, Pete can sense a cautious tone in Patrick’s voice. He relaxes on the carpet and waits patiently. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
